AMBERLIN I
AMBERLIN II
DIBARCAS MAIOR (who studied under Phandaal)
ARCH-MAGE MAEL LEL LAIO (he lived in a palace carved from a single moon-stone)
THE VAPURIALS
THE GREEN AND PURPLE COLLEGE
ZINQZIN THE ENCYCLOPAEDIST
KYROL OF PORPHYRHYNCOS
CALANCTUS THE CALM
LLORIO THE SORCERESS
The magicians of the 21st Aeon were, in comparison, a disparate and uncertain group, lacking both grandeur and consistency.
I
The Murthe
1
One cool morning toward the middle of the 21st Aeon, Rhialto sat at breakfast in the east cupola of his manse Falu. On this particular morning the old sun rose behind a curtain of frosty haze, to cast a wan and poignant light across Low Meadow.
For reasons Rhialto could not define, he lacked appetite for his breakfast and gave only desultory attention to a dish of watercress, stewed persimmon and sausage in favor of strong tea and a rusk. Then, despite a dozen tasks awaiting him in his work-room, he sat back in his chair, to gaze absently across the meadow toward Were Wood.
In this mood of abstraction, his perceptions remained strangely sensitive. An insect settled upon the leaf of a nearby aspen tree; Rhialto took careful note of the angle at which it crooked its legs and the myriad red glints in its bulging eyes. Interesting and significant, thought Rhialto.
After absorbing the insect’s full import, Rhialto extended his attention to the landscape at large. He contemplated the slope of the meadow as it dropped toward the Ts and the distribution of its herbs. He studied the crooked boles at the edge of the forest, the red rays slanting through the foliage, the indigo and dark green of the shadows. His vision was remarkable for its absolute clarity; his hearing was no less acute … He leaned forward, straining to hear — what? Sighs of inaudible music?
Nothing. Rhialto relaxed, smiling at his own odd fancies, and poured out a final cup of tea … He let it cool untasted. On impulse he rose to his feet and went into the parlour, where he donned a cloak, a hunter’s cap, and took up that baton known as ‘Malfezar’s Woe’. He then summoned Ladanque, his chamberlain and general factotum.
“Ladanque, I will be strolling the forest for a period. Take care that Vat Five retains its roil. If you wish, you may distill the contents of the large blue alembic into a stoppered flask. Use a low heat and avoid breathing the vapor; it will bring a purulent rash to your face.”
“Very well, sir. What of the clevenger?”
“Pay it no heed. Do not approach the cage. Remember, its talk of both virgins and wealth is illusory; I doubt if it knows the meaning of either term.”
“Just so, sir.”
Rhialto departed the manse. He set off across the meadow by a trail which took him to the Ts, over a stone bridge, and into the forest.
The trail, which had been traced by night-creatures from the forest on their way across the meadow, presently disappeared. Rhialto went on, following where the forest aisles led: through glades where candole, red meadow-sweet and white dymphne splotched the grass with colour; past stands of white birches and black aspens; beside ledges of old stone, springs and small streams.
If other creatures walked the woods, none were evident. Entering a little clearing with a single white birch at the center, Rhialto paused to listen … He heard only silence.
A minute passed. Rhialto stood motionless.
Silence. Had it been absolute?
The music, if such it had been, assuredly had evolved in his own brain.
Curious, thought Rhialto.
He came to an open place, where a white birch stood frail against a background of dense black deodars. As he turned away, again he thought to hear music.
Soundless music? An inherent contradiction!
Odd, thought Rhialto, especially since the music seemed to come from outside himself … He thought to hear it again: a flutter of abstract chords, imparting an emotion at once sweet, melancholy, triumphant: definite yet uncertain.
Rhialto gazed in all directions. The music, or whatever it might be, seemed to come from a source near at hand. Prudence urged that he turn in his tracks and hurry back to Falu, never looking over his shoulder … He went forward, and came upon a still pool, dark and deep, reflecting the far bank with the exactness of a mirror. Standing motionless, Rhialto saw reflected the image of a woman, strangely pale, with silver hair bound by a black fillet. She wore a knee-length white kirtle, and went bare-armed and bare-legged.
Rhialto looked up to the far bank. He discovered neither woman, nor man, nor creature of any kind. He dropped his eyes to the surface of the pool, where, as before, the woman stood reflected.
For a long moment Rhialto studied the image. The woman appeared tall, with small breasts and narrow flanks; she seemed fresh and clean-limbed as a girl. Her face, while lacking neither delicacy nor classic proportion, showed a stillness from which all frivolity was absent. Rhialto, whose expertise in the field of calligynics had earned him his cognomen, found her beautiful but severe, and probably unapproachable, especially if she refused to show herself except as a reflection … And perhaps also for other reasons, thought Rhialto, who had conceived an inkling as to the identity of the woman.
Rhialto spoke: “Madame, did you call me here with your music? If so, explain how I can help you, though I promise no definite undertaking.”
The woman showed a cool smile not altogether to Rhialto’s liking. He bowed stiffly. “If you have nothing to say to me, I will intrude no longer upon your privacy.” He performed another curt bow, and as he did so, something thrust him forward so that he plunged into the pool.
The water was extremely cold. Rhialto floundered to the bank and pulled himself ashore. Whoever or whatever had thrust him into the water could not be seen.
